For Her For Lily
by xxmerthurxx
Summary: "I only care for her. The one who holds my heart. The one who sacrificed herself for Potter to see another sunrise. I only care for Lily. Lily Evans." Snape's thoughts during the sorting of Harry in 'Philosphers Stone'. My first Harry potter fic so please R&R. Rated K just to be safe. Thanks.


**A/N Hey. This is my first venture into Harry Potter. It was written as a practice attempt at monologues for English. Not in class but just for the sake of it. :P Hope you enjoy it.**

"Harry Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice ran out loud and clear in the vast space of the Great Hall. My eyes lock onto where she stands with absolute attention. I was already paying attention but it has now risen to a piercing amount. This deserves the utmost attention. This is Harry Potter. Everyone else is listening more intently. It's so quiet but you can hear those few people whispering to their partner. The whispers are so loud and clear in the silent hall, you can hear them from where I'm sat at the high table, tucked in the far corner. "Harry Potter?" people are asking as if they can't believe that they're in the same room as him, waiting to see what house he's going to be placed in. That's what everyone's waiting for. To catch a glimpse of him, the Boy Who Lived, and holding their breath in the hope that he'll join their house whether it be Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor or even Slytherin. I, however, I wish to see him for a more personal matter. I couldn't care less that he's the one who stopped the Dark Lord. I couldn't care less that he's the only known survivor of the killing curse. I only care for her. The one who holds my heart. The one who sacrificed herself for Potter to see another sunrise. I only care for Lily. Lily Evans.

I know she changed her name to Potter after she married the ungrateful, arrogant swine but to me, she will always be Lily Evans. Sweet, innocent Lily. The Lily I comforted as a child when her sister ran off calling her a freak for having magic. The Lily I messed things up with in our fifth year after I'd lost my rage (with Potter senior nevertheless.) and called her a mudblood. Nothing could be further from the truth. She has purer blood then those who have had magic in their family going back for generations and will have for generations to come. Calling her a mudblood is my second biggest regret. My biggest still hurts me to this day. Ten years after it had happened. Not protecting her enough. Not pleading enough to the Dark Lord to spare her life. That is my biggest regret. She didn't have to die. The Dark Lord told me he'll spare her for me. He still murdered her. He murdered her as she wouldn't move out of the way of him and Potter. The child is the reason she died. And here he is now.

He looks just like his father. That's my first thought. An intense rage burns within me. I dislike him immediately. Truth be told, I've always hated him. He's the reason she's dead. I watch as he sits on the stool and the sorting hat is placed on his head. I watch as it covers his eyes. Her eyes. A soft green like moss in spring, twinkling with a joy for life yet so kind and gentle. They can burn with such passion be it good or bad. I can't see his eyes from this distance. Dumbledore told me he had her eyes. The night she died. The night the Dark Lord was over-powered. The night _he _lived. He told me so after my return to Hogwarts after visiting Godrics Hollow. After I returned from cradling her in my arms. Her body as limp as a rag doll. As cold as a ghost's whisper. Her eyes as vacant as a deserted tunnel. He told me so as he knew how I felt for her. He told me so as he knew it was the only way he could get me to do as he asked. Look after the boy.

I hear the hat shout "Gryffindor!" and the far table come to life and roar in delight as a lion would roar in a victorious kill. I watch as he struts to the table, greeting his delighted house. I see him turn and I glance Dumbledore raising his goblet to the boy. Look after him. That's what I'm to do. It will be hard. He looks too much like his father with his unruly hair and glasses. I'm sure he's also inherited his father's mannerisms. His arrogance. His strut. His way of thinking he's above the rules. I keep watching him throughout the feast even when Quirrell's trying to engage me in conversation. (He's another I need to watch this year.) I see Potter look at me yet, in my eyes, it's Lily looking at me with her flaming red hair cradling he delicate face. This is going to be a hard year. It will be hard to control myself around the boy. I have to remind myself that it's for her, for Lily. It will _always _be for Lily.

**A/N Sooo, what did you think. Yay? Nay? Please review. :) I also write for Merlin if anyone's interested. Thanks.**


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